Movies Are Your Best Escape
by SeenaC
Summary: 4th installment of my series.  Hogan juggles espionage with helping some English airmen escape Germany.  Can Hogan trick Klink into thinking the war is all but over?  As usual, victory comes with unforeseen consequences.  Feedback please!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Welcome to the 4th installment of my Hogan's Heroes series! I am trying something new with this story. Up until now, I have written the Hogan chapters in third person and the Klink chapters in first person. This time, I am going to experiment with doing both of them in first person. Let me know what you think! First chapter is Hogan's POV...

**Warnings:** Same as for my other stories.

**Disclaimer:**I make no profit. Characters and plot lovingly and respectfully borrowed.

Movies Are Your Best Escape - 1

About a week after Colonel Crittendon was transferred back to Stalag 18, we got in a few downed British flyers. When Newkirk introduced them to me, he assured me that they checked out.

Just as we were discussing the logistics of getting them back to England, a small commotion was heard outside. Schultz was apparently herding all the prisoners back into the barracks. We quickly got the Brits back down in the tunnel just before Schultz came in the barracks door.

It only took a moment for us to get Schultz to confess the reason for the sudden confinement. Apparently a certain General von Kaplow had arrived with a mysterious briefcase handcuffed to his person.

After Schultz left I did some quick thinking. I wanted to see what was so important that a general would have it secured so tightly. What sort of ruse could we use to get inside the general's briefcase? Obviously a distraction would be needed. If Newkirk could get to the case, it would be a matter of moments for him to be inside of it. Two of the best distractions would be drinking or romance. Not much chance of the latter, but we might be able to manage the former.

I told LeBeau and Newkirk that I would find out what was going on from Klink.

"How are you going to do that, Colonel?" asked Newkirk.

I responded, "LeBeau, get out your best recipes. They say the way to a man's big mouth is through his stomach."

I exited Barracks 2 and made my way over to the Kommandantur. Although we were supposed to be confined to barracks, none of the guards bothered to stop me. I had convinced them all that as senior POW officer I had the right to go see Klink at any time of the day or night.

Helga was working in the outer office, Klink's door was closed.

I went up to Hegla, "Hi honey," I said and kissed her on the forehead.

"What's the general doing in there with Klink?"

Helga's warm smile turned into a slight frown of disappointment.

"The only reason you kiss me is to get information from me," she pouted and turned away.

"Come on, honey, that's not true," I insisted, "there are other reasons. For openers: I'm a man, you're a woman."

"Mmmm," Helga replied skeptically, and turned away again.

"That's about all I remember from those training films," I mused. _Mental __note: __remember __to __request __more __silk __stockings __for __Helga __next __time __we __contact __London._

"So, what about the general?" I asked again.

"The only thing I know is that he pinched me," replied Helga with a disgusted eye-roll.

"Well, at least we know what he likes," I teased.

I went into Klink's office and was nearly shot by the armed guard just on the other side of the door.

_Wow, this general is not joking around!_

Fortunately, in spite of Klink's immediate protestations I was able to get the general's interest. He was an extremely dour looking man with an eye patch that was probably the result of fencing, as the side of his face with the missing eye also bore the mark of a long scar.

_What is it with these Germans and their fencing scars? Thank God that's not a look that's popular in America!_

I also noted the briefcase in question, which I was pleased to see was handcuffed to the general with a fairly lengthy chain. The longer the chain, the easier it would be to access the contents.

I was able to ingratiate myself to the general by concocting a story about it being "Repeal of Prohibition Day" and that we were cooking a special meal and wanted to include our loveable commandant.

"Colonel Hogan, you know that I never fraternize with the prisoners," Klink said with a strange tightness in his voice.

But, I managed to pique the general's interest and after I invited him as well he immediately accepted.

We fixed the time for 7:30pm in Klink's quarters. Klink seemed reluctant about hosting, but was quickly overridden by the general.

I left feeling extremely pleased. I had been looking for an excuse for some time to get into Klink's personal quarters. It was one of the few places we still didn't have linked to our tunnel system, as we did not know the exact layout of the place. Being inside would enable me to draw plans and we could decide where best an entrance might be constructed. I also wanted to have a good look around the place in order to learn more about Klink. So much about him was still obscure and somewhat puzzling to me. Having a look at his domestic arrangements would go a long way to revealing the man. The more I knew about Klink, the more useful he could be.

I hurried back to Barracks 2 and informed LeBeau. It was arranged that he and Newkirk would have immediate access to Klink's kitchen and whatever food stores the camp possessed. They set off immediately, carefully guarded because we were all still officially confined to our barracks.

At 7:30 I set off for Klink's quarters along with Schultz. We were met by Klink, the general and Helga. Apparently, the general had insisted that Helga attend the dinner as well.

_Even better! She's more of a distraction than the food and wine put together!_

As final dinner preparations were made, Klink gave us a quick tour of his quarters, which were small, but fairly comfortable. There was a sitting room that had a dining area at the back, a kitchen with modern appliances, a tiny but modern bathroom, and a bedroom with a large bed covered in a blue and white quilt.

The furniture was surprisingly traditional, rather than military issue. I could only assume that the pieces must belong to Klink personally. _Hmmmm, __likes __the __comfort __of __familiarity __and __homey-ness._

The decor was very basic, mostly antique weapons. I again assumed they must be from a personal collection. _I'll __have __to __ask __him __about __them __some time. __People __love __to __tell __the __stories __behind __their __possessions._

As I wandered through the sitting room I happened upon a record player with a large stack of records beside it. I looked through them a bit and discovered that they were the records Klink had confiscated from us last week while he was in a fit of pique over one of our pranks. He had threatened to smash them, but instead he was apparently listening to them.

I glanced at the record on the machine. It was Tommy Dorsey's "I'm Getting Sentimental Over You." I smiled to myself. I was trying to picture stiff, fussy Klink listening to such sensuous, romantic music.

I was interrupted in my musings by Newkirk. Apparently LeBeau had everything ready in the kitchen, so it was time to sit down to dinner...and take a peek in the general's briefcase!

To be continued...

A/N: Please let me know how this is going! Next chapter will be from Klink's POV...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**This chapter is from Klink's POV. Thanks so much for the reviews and alerts! Every single one makes my heart smile.

Movies Are Your Best Escape - 2

I was sure Hogan was up to something, I just wasn't quite sure what it might be.

Certainly General von Kaplow's mysterious briefcase was probably part of it. How on earth Hogan thought he might access it was beyond my ability to speculate, however. I also wondered why Hogan decided that this "holiday dinner" needed to be in my quarters.

The bottom had dropped from my stomach when Hogan referred to me as the prisoners' "loveable Kommandant." I had immediately asserted that I did not fraternize with the prisoners, and thankfully the General had not seemed concerned about it. However, a small piece of me wondered and hoped that perhaps that was how Hogan felt about me.

I was given another jolt when Hogan suggested that the dinner be held in my quarters as opposed to the recreation hall. Instead of a big celebration for the entire camp, apparently this "celebration" was going to be limited to just the General, Fräulein Helga, Hogan, and myself. It seemed a bit odd, but as the General seemed pleased at the prospect I assented.

I felt a bit nervous about hosting Hogan in my quarters for the first time. I managed to hurry over and make sure that everything looked in order before the dinner. I couldn't help but watch Hogan out of the corner of my eye as he wandered through my rooms, and wonder what he thought of my personal items on display.

When he reached my bedroom my foolish heart gave a little lurch. In my loneliness I had sometimes imagined him being there, although in very different circumstances. I impressed every step, touch, and glance of his within the room, saving them for private review later, when I would be alone. I knew I was being exceedingly silly, but what else of him could I have?

The four of us sat down to dinner at my table. It felt very odd. The general, who was obviously very attracted to Helga, immediately sat down next to her. I noticed that he removed the briefcase from his hand and instead attached the handcuff to the bottom of his chair, setting the briefcase on the floor.

I sat in my usual chair at the end of the table, and Hogan took the other end. I had never taken a meal with him before, and I found it difficult not to glance in his direction every few seconds. I ate, but my nerves hardly allowed me to enjoy the Frenchman's cooking. However, I made sure to praise it along with my fellow diners to conceal my distraction.

We were just about done eating when the Englishman Newkirk knocked over Hogan's wineglass and it smashed on the floor beside the general. Hogan chastised his man and instructed him to pick up every bit of glass. Newkirk disappeared under the table.

As I watched Newkirk's legs disappear, I realized what was happening. I was familiar with Newkirk's unique talents, having been the victim of them when the Inspector General had made his ill-fated visit.

_Newkirk is going to try and steal the briefcase and then we'll all be shot! Hogan, are you mad? There's an armed guard standing right behind the general!_

But, the seconds ticked by and no outcry was raised. The general, if anything, seemed more and more distracted by Helga who in turn was looking more and more tense and uncomfortable.

_Poor girl is too lovely for her own good. She attracts the lechers like honey attracts bears._

I found myself babbling nonsense about our meal, trying to provide whatever additional distraction I could to keep the general from happening to look under the table.

The general asked Hogan what Hogan would do if he were to escape Stalag 13.

"I can assure you, he won't," I said firmly.

"As an officer it is his duty to try," countered von Kaplow.

"Also, it keeps me out of trouble," joked Hogan, just as Newkirk re-emerged from under the table.

I noted with relief that Newkirk did not appear to have the briefcase concealed on his person, but he did have a serving platter covered by a cloth.

_So, rather than stealing the case, he merely stole the contents!_

Newkirk announced that he was nearly done cleaning the mess, and would come back with a dustpan to finish the job. He then disappeared into the kitchen.

_He probably will look at the papers and then return them when he comes back to "finish." At least, I hope he intends on returning the contents. If he doesn't we'll all be shot once the general notices them missing._

Once Newkirk had left, the general was ready to get up from the table. I had a moment of panic, but Hogan took quick action.

"To round out a perfect evening, I was hoping that the Kommandant would favor us with a bit of music."

"Oh yes! A violin solo, Herr Kommandant," Helga immediately agreed.

"Oh! You are a musician?" asked the general.

I gave an embarrassed chuckle, "In a small way."

Hogan gave me one of his wicked grins that always made me come undone.

"Oh, he's so modest," he said, "behind his back the men call him Papa Heifetz."

"They do?" I asked, filled with wonder.

"Amongst other things," Hogan replied with his mischievous smile.

"Oh do play for us," begged Helga, "just one number?"

"Oh, really I'm not prepared," I protested.

_I really don't want to play for the general. I'm far too nervous!_

"Well, if he can't, he can't" said the general, beginning to stand.

"If you insist!" I quickly rose from the table to get the violin. The general could not be allowed to leave the table just yet!

"He can! He can!" Hogan almost pushed the general back into his chair.

As I got my violin and tuned it I thought about what to play. I finally settled on Liszt's _O __Lieb, __So __Lang __Du __Lieben __Kannst. _I felt it would be of suitable length, and hopefully the emotion of the piece would keep the general distracted. I went through my usual routine of playing rather badly. I had learned since joining the military that being too proficient in music sometimes brought a suspicious eye. It was much better to be laughed at as a buffoon than to be suspected of being a moral degenerate.

I could nearly feel Liszt turning in his grave as the mangled sounds of his _Liebestr__ä__ume _left my violin. I shut my eyes and imagined playing the piece, alone with Hogan, and doing it full justice.

As the final note sounded, the listeners began to clap.

"Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, Colonel!" said Hogan clapping enthusiastically.

"Thank you," I replied, "now shall we - "

I was going to suggest that we open another bottle of wine, as I hadn't seen Newkirk return from the kitchen yet, but apparently Hogan was ahead of me.

"Do you know _Melancholy __Baby_?" he asked.

"Is that Mozart, by any chance?" I asked. Sometimes the informal titles of pieces were translated oddly.

"No chance at all," said Hogan, clearly disappointed. Obviously, he wanted me to keep playing until Newkirk returned.

"Oh, well, I have another little number that is very well received," I suggested.

Hogan's eyes lit up, "Good! Good!"

I immediately began tuning again before the general could protest, and then launched into Brahms' _Hungarian __Dance __Number __Five_. I did a better job on that, as I didn't feel it was as dangerously emotive as the Liszt was.

I had hardly begun before Newkirk came hopping out of the kitchen with his cloth-covered serving dish again. He crawled back under the table and was back out in just a few seconds. The mission, whatever it was, had apparently been accomplished. I could see Hogan grinning like a cat with a bowl of cream.

Once I finished the Brahms piece, Hogan quickly brought his part of the evening to a close. I couldn't help being a bit disappointed. He said he was fatigued from drinking the wine because he hadn't had alcohol in so long. He and his men quickly left, as soon as LeBeau had finished in the kitchen.

That left me to entertain the general and Helga on my own. Helga tried to be polite, but soon also begged to be excused as she needed to work in the morning. The general was clearly disappointed, but too well-mannered to put up a great fuss.

After I got the general settled in the guest quarters, I returned to my own and quickly went to bed. I was exhausted from the evening and its worries. However, before I fell asleep I cast a look around my bedroom and smiled.

_Hogan was actually here, just a few hours ago!_

Liszt's melody echoed through my dreams that night.

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**We're back with Hogan for this chapter. Thanks again for all the reviews and alerts.

Movies Are Your Best Escape - 3

Once dinner in Klink's quarters was over we hurried back to develop the film that Newkirk and LeBeau had taken of the contents of General von Kaplow's briefcase. Once the negatives were ready, I examined them through a magnifying glass.

We had hit the jackpot. The documents turned out to be the plans for Germany's Fourth Army Group. Everything was in there: attack plans, air support, supply lines, the works. Having this information could turn the tide of the entire war. The problems was, how best to get the film to London?

Obviously, it would make sense to send it with our two downed British fliers, but getting them out of the camp and to the coast would be tricky. Currently there was too much activity in the area to smuggle them from the tunnel.

_But, what if they could leave the camp openly, in a staff car?_

I quickly thought of a plan that I hoped would at least confuse the Germans long enough to get the airmen and film safely to the coast.

And, where best to begin the confusion? Our friendliest enemy Sergeant Schultz, of course.

The first part of the plan was a lecture on basic Russian words, delivered by me and timed to be interrupted by Schultz. I fed him a bunch of "rumors" of the advancing Allied and Russian lines, along with dire descriptions of Hamburg in ruins and Berlin in a shambles. Before long, Schultz was an eager student in my Russian class.

After the conclusion of the crash-course in Russian, I approached Schultz with the next stage of my plan.

"So glad you decided to join us, Schultz," I said as I clapped him on the back, "knowing Russian could be a big help to you during the court hearings, you know."

"Court hearings?" Schultz repeated nervously.

"Well, you know, in case any prisoners decide to claim mistreatment, or violations of the Geneva convention...there might need to be some sort of official tribunal after the dust settles. Probably just a formality."

"But, but, but who would accuse ME?" stammered Schultz, "I always treat you well!"

"Oh, I know Schultz. I'd hate to see such a thing happen to you...Say, why don't I have Kinch write up a little document that we can all sign declaring you innocent of wrong-doing? That would go a long way to clearing you of any charges."

Schultz was very excited about the idea and agreed immediately. I got Kinch to grab a notebook and started dictating a statement to him:

"_We, __the __undersigned __POWs __of __Stalag __13, __certify __that __Sergeant __Schultz __has __been __a __humane __and __considerate __guard __of __this __camp. __We __ask __that __he __be __treated __accordingly __when __the __Allies __occupy __Stalag __13. _Type that up and have everybody sign it_,_" I instructed Kinch.

"Will do," confirmed Kinch.

"Schultz, you like that?" I asked.

"Beautiful, _tovarich,_" Schultz said, using his newly-learned Russian word for _friend._ "I could cry," he finished, and it looked to be the truth.

_I hate this war. Schultz and I **should** be friends, there's really not a mean bone in his entire, rotund body. Well, the sooner we can end this, the sooner we will truly be friends._

I knew it would take no time at all for Schultz to spread our rumors throughout the camp, and sure enough, only a few hours later I spied him talking to Klink. I was too far away to hear what was said, but I saw Schultz reluctantly hand over our signed declaration to Klink. Klink looked at it and proceeded to berate Schultz, then sent him away. Schultz went to leave, then turned back and said something, pointing at his letter and was snapped at yet again. I presumed he was asking to have it back and was refused.

_No __matter, _I thought, _I'll __be __happy __to __repeat __the __process __if __we __need __to __do __so._

I lingered, out of sight, to watch Klink's reaction to Schultz's "news." He stood there for a few moments looking over the paper, while I tried to guess his thoughts. I had signed my name first, in large "John Hancock" style, though I doubted Klink would understand the reference. Klink stood there, shoulders slumped, reading over the document. Once he finished looking it over he raised his head and looked over to our barracks, with an oddly sad and wistful expression. He glanced back over the paper again, then carefully tucked it inside his coat and made his way slowly back into the Kommandantur, his head bowed in thought or worry.

_Looks like he's taking it seriously...now for the next step..._

Later that afternoon, Kinch's voice could be heard echoing through the camp announcing an important speech by "our beloved Führer" at 21:00. Kinch was very proud of the sophisticated system he had set up to interrupt German radio and pose as an announcer from Radio Berlin.

_I must remember to congratulate the superintendant of Detroit's public schools on their excellent German language program when I get back home._

It sounded like Kinch was really enjoying his opportunity to use his excellent German. I knew that every German in the camp would be listening later to Newkirk doing his Hitler impersonation. I scheduled a meeting with Klink for shortly before that time, in the hopes that I could listen to it with Klink and see if our plan was going to work.

I met with Klink at the appointed time, with a story about how the prisoners wanted to start up an orchestra. I had learned that Klink was susceptible to flattery, and I knew just how to get his interest and sympathy.

"We'd love to have you as first violinist, sir," I said in a tone halfway between pleading and eagerness.

"Well, I don't know, I - " began Klink, but I could tell he was intrigued as he took a few steps away to hide his pleased smile.

"I mean, the men are insisting, sir," I pressed as I followed him.

"I'm flattered," admitted Klink.

I continued, "I mean, of course we'd love to have you as soloist, especially at our first concert."

"Let me think it over," said Klink, but he sounded mostly persuaded.

"I mean, nothing elaborate, maybe four or five numbers, ending with, uh, _Stars __and __Stripes __Forever_?"

It was a very subtle suggestion, but I wondered how he'd react. Klink looked merely puzzled.

"That's an unusual request," he said.

He then looked at his watch, "Oh! It's almost time for the Führer's speech," he said, making his way back to his desk and the radio he had there. "You may stay and listen to it, Colonel Hogan, if you wish."

"Thank you, sir," I said, immensely pleased, "I, uh, wouldn't want to miss this."

_Or your reactions to it..._

Klink switched on the radio just in time to catch the last of Kinch's introduction of Hitler - as played by Newkirk.

Klink looked at me a little apologetically as he half-heartedly joined in the applause coming from the radio.

_So, obviously not a true believer, then, as I strongly suspected, but feels the need to keep up a loyal appearance. Good to know._

Klink and I crowded each other in front of the radio speaker. I was glad of the excuse to press close to him, so that I could feel his bodily reactions to the speech. I found myself resisting an urge to drape an arm companionably over his shoulders, as I would with one of my men. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Klink was an enemy.

_The man confuses me, even after months! He's vain, touchy, and fussy, and yet has a certain warmth and sensitivity at times that can be disarmingly charming. But he's so guarded and uptight, as if he's afraid to reveal something. I wonder if he has Jewish ancestry? No, not possible in the Prussian aristocracy. _

There were rumors that many of the old, aristocratic families in Germany were less than pleased by Hitler's regime. Maybe Klink fell into that category. Perhaps it would be possible to carefully cultivate Klink into an Allied sympathizer on that front. Perhaps he was already an agent for the Underground.

_No, the man doesn't have the nerve or brains for that, and we would know about it. At least, I hope our information wouldn't be that incomplete._

So, Klink and I pressed against each other in our odd camaraderie and listened to Newkirk's jumbled tirade that mentioned "rumors" that should be ignored "even if true" and "negotiations" that will be a surprise and exhortations to "tighten your belts", and "work hard" and ended with "keep smiling."

Klink reached out and switched the radio off, clearly in a state of shock.

To be continued...

**A/N:** Next chapter will be Klink's POV...Please review! Pretty please?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**With this chapter, we are back with Klink. And now, dear readers, this is where I begin departing from a literalist interpretation of the Canon. Up until now, I've been using the space left for my vision of Hogan and Klink, but now is when I begin _respectfully_ altering what was presented on screen. My justification consists of 2 points: The first, is that the classic sitcom formula did not allow characters to grow or develop. Each episode began with the formula, and no matter what happened in the episode, at the end all the presets were back in place. Obviously, this is not how "real life" works, and I am working under the gentle fiction that these are real people experiencing a real sequence of events. Naturally, they would not be the same at the end of the war as they were at the beginning of the war. People learn, grow, and change every day, especially in extraordinary circumstances such as those presented in the series. I will continue to use the plots given by the Canon, but gradually you will see more and more additions, deletions, and alterations. It is my hope that my development of the characters will still ring true for all of you who love and respect them as I do. My second justification is the old standby: poetic license. If CBS doesn't like it, they can let me know and I will (regretfully) stop.

Movies Are Your Best Escape - 4

"Keep smiling?" I repeated dumbly, as I turned off the radio, "he tells us to keep smiling!"

I fumbled my way back to my desk chair, sickened.

_So, no one can ignore it now, that madman has driven the Fatherland to ruin. Will Germany survive?_

"Ah, Colonel, about our orchestra..." Hogan was leaning over at me from the other side of the desk.

"Not now, not now," I exclaimed, sounding more distressed than I would have liked.

I was quite rattled. I had gone from a pleasant discussion with Hogan about possibly performing in an orchestra the prisoners were forming, to the even more pleasant experience of listening to Hitler's speech. That is, the way Hogan leaned against me, almost affectionately, was very pleasant indeed. I was surprised, but I responded in a like manner, my heart thundering in my chest as I smiled at him. Would he make any further advances? I did not dare, but at that moment I wasn't sure how I would react if he took the initiative. I would be placing my life in his hands to accept an overture from him, could I count on his discretion?

But, my mind was pulled away from these thrilling and terrifying thoughts as I listened to Hitler speak. The man was clearly insane, and seemed to be preparing us for the end of the war, an end orchestrated by the Allies, rather than Germany. My personal life faded into insignificance.

"We are winning the war...but negotiations have started," I looked up at Hogan for an explanation.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Hogan said dismissively, "Hitler's like everybody else, he has his moods."

"Of course," I said, although a bit uncertainly.

"He probably had one of his temper tantrums this morning," continued Hogan.

"Yes," I mused, "perhaps he had a bad day at Berchtesgaden." _The __man __does __seem __like __a __spoilt __child __at __times, __maybe __his __dinner __was __burnt._

"But! You can never tell..." replied Hogan, seeming to rethink his position.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean you go along running the toughest camp in Germany and then suddenly one day you look out and through the gates comes a Sherman tank with its pea-shooter pointed straight at your monocle."

Hogan had raised his hand and pointed it at my face as if he were attempting to impersonate the tank. I instinctively rose from my chair, trying to get away from the imagined tank, which was beginning to feel a little too real for comfort.

"What?" I stammered, and moved around the desk, out of the way.

"Yeah, yeah," Hogan said, deep in his story, "and then out steps a second lieutenant, nineteen years old," Hogan was swaggering now, impersonating this imagined youth, "six feet four, a high school senior," Hogan was pacing around the desk toward my chair, "from Wichita, Kansas, and he says: 'SIR! YOU ARE MY PRISONER!' very correct, and if you move? He shoots you," Hogan finished with a broad smile, and dropped down into my chair.

My mind raced quickly. There was much I did not know or understand about Hogan, but I did know that he wielded power and influence. It wasn't why my heart desired him, but my brain was smart enough to realize that I needed him to think well of me, for my own safety.

"Colonel, I am going to play in your orchestra," I said, standing where Hogan had stood just a moment before.

"Thank you, sir," Hogan replied with a pleased smile.

There was an awkward pause. I burned with shame and embarrassment, but I couldn't stay silent longer.

"You are sitting in my chair," I pointed out, although I knew that he was well aware of how he had maneuvered me into this humiliating position.

He had enough compassion to act embarrassed, "Sorry! I got carried away!" he said as he quickly got up and joined me on the other side of the desk.

He then pressed up to me closely, causing my heart to lurch dangerously.

"Um, I'd get rid of that German helmet if I were you," he said, nodding at my _pickelhaube_, "it's got that _Hun_ feeling about it."

I snatched it up and held it to my chest, about to protest when Hogan continued, "And, uh, you don't have to worry about going to the Russian front, the Russian front's coming here."

With that, he strode off to my office door, cast me a significant glance, and left.

I spent most of the night sleepless, worrying about my fate. I fervently hoped that if my camp were to be taken over that it would be the Americans, not the Russians. I was far more confident that I would be treated well, and perhaps under a measure of Hogan's protection, if I were imprisoned by the Americans. With the way we had treated the Russians, I felt I had good reason not to expect kind treatment in return.

My heart ached a little that Hogan had not openly offered me his advocacy as he had Schultz. I wondered why. Did Hogan dislike me for some reason? I felt that I had always treated him with respect, if not outward friendliness. I couldn't think of a single instance of mistreatment of any of the prisoners, and I was certain Hogan would have informed me if one of the guards had acted inappropriately.

So why was Schultz offered a signed declaration and not me? What could I do to convince Hogan that just because we were on opposite sides of the war, I was somebody he could at least feel care and compassion for, as he evidently felt for Schultz?

My decision to play in the prisoners' orchestra was a good start. I resolved to look out for any further opportunities to prove myself as a caring, concerned guardian of those under my watch.

TBC...

**A/N:** Next time, we're back with Hogan!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Now we're back with Hogan for this chapter. Thanks again for your support for this story.

**Warnings:**Hogan thinks a bad word at the very end.

Movies Are Your Best Escape - 5

The morning after "Hitler's speech," I was giving our two British airmen their final instructions. They were meticulously decked out in German uniforms, carrying a dummy film camera courtesy of our metal shop. Inside the fake camera were the precious negatives of the German Fourth Army Group plans. The airmen were going to pose as military documentarians, there to take footage of Stalag 13. Their story to Klink would be that their car had broken down, and would need to borrow a car from the camp to leave when finished.

After an hour or so of filming they would take the car and just drive down to the coast to be picked up. In the event of their capture, the camera was rigged to blow up if tampered with before releasing the hidden safety switch. Fortunately for all concerned, the two airmen knew just enough German to probably fake their way through a brief explanation to Klink about their activities.

Newkirk, who had still been busy with the uniforms when I returned last night, asked me if we had succeeded in convincing Klink Germany was about to lose the war.

"Well, I can tell you he's practicing his surrender speech right now," I joked, remembering Klink's stricken look as I left him the night before.

We reviewed the plan once more, then snuck the airmen and the camera out of Barracks 2. I kept my fingers crossed that when Klink came to meet with them that he wouldn't bother checking with the front gate about their arrival. He rarely did check that sort of thing, confident in his spotless record. It seemed to never occur to him that anyone would ever sneak _into_ the camp.

Before long the presence of the men and their camera was noticed and Klink came hurrying out of the Kommandantur. The airmen gave their explanation, while I hovered at a short distance, ready to jump in if the need arose. Klink was still confused, protesting that he had heard nothing of this archival project from headquarters.

Ritchie replied, "That is understandable," with only a slight stumble.

Donner added, "Things are a little confused in Berlin these days," enunciating with care.

Klink didn't seem to notice anything suspicious in their replies and only hurriedly silenced them with, "Please, don't tell me anymore."

I decided it was time to put the final part of my plan in place. I walked up behind Klink and grasped him gently by the arm and led him a few steps away. He came quite willingly.

"Yes, Hogan?" he asked.

"Um, I..." I paused until we were a safe distance away, "I couldn't help overhearing, sir. This is a great break for you, sir!"

"It is?" Klink was clearly puzzled.

"Oh sure, a movie of friendly Stalag 13, where never is heard a discouraging word? With _loveable_Commandant Klink. Don't forget that kid in the Sherman tank!"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Klink agreed.

"This will be documentary proof that you've been a humane guardian of Allied prisoners."

"Excellent! That's an excellent idea!" exclaimed Klink, and hurried back to the camera.

"Gentlemen!" he enthused, "you may proceed! You have my fullest cooperation."

He gave the airmen a salute.

"Jawohl, Herr Colonel," Ritchie said, saluting back.

Donner saluted as well, unfortunately in the British fashion. Ritchie gave him a sidelong glance and he quickly corrected himself.

My plan was more successful than I ever could have imagined. Klink leapt into the spirit of the documentary with an enthusiasm I had never seen him display over anything. He quickly supplied cigarettes to any of the prisoners who wanted them. As I lit my first one I joked that it would be nice to have a beer to go with it.

"Great idea, Hogan!" Klink smiled, his blue eyes gleaming excitedly, "I'll join you! Fräulein Helga!"

He bounded into the Kommandantur like an excited puppy. A few minutes later he and Helga emerged with a pitcher of beer and two large steins. _I __can't __believe __it! __He __was __serious!_

The camera was set up and Klink and I, on either side of Helga, were "filmed" toasting each other and swigging down generous portions of beer.

"Thank you, Colonel Klink," called Donner from behind the camera.

"That will be fine," Ritchie confirmed, about to ask for a staff car.

"Just a minute, just a minute," protested Klink, "you haven't got a complete picture of Stalag 13 yet. Now there is another side I want you to photograph! Just a moment." And he hurried off.

Ritchie shot me an anxious look. I shrugged back. Best to let Klink have his way, at least for now...

I had to admit, Klink shocked me with his next idea. He lined up all his guards in formation and then turned to me excitedly.

"Now Hogan, you and I will trade hats," he said as he grabbed my cap from me while taking off his own. He plopped mine on his head and handed me his.

"And you will inspect _my_ men! A little role-reversal, just for fun, eh?"

I could have sworn his eyes were actually sparkling with amusement.

"Whatever you think, my loveable Commandant," I replied smiling back.

Klink flushed with pleasure and called the camera over. We then enacted an inspection together, with me looking over the guards and Klink taking dutiful notes. When I got to the end of the line, we shook hands enthusiastically and smiled at each other. On impulse, I put an arm affectionately across Klink's back as we turned toward the camera.

"Cut!" announced Ritchie, "very good. That was an excellent idea, Colonel, that's all we need, thank you."

He and Donner began to dismantle the camera.

"Just a moment! Just a moment!" protested Klink again, "this is only the beginning!"

"Now," he paused, considering, "let us move the camera...over there." He pointed in the direction of the Kommandantur again.

"Sir, now don't overdo it!" I said. _I've __created __a __monster!_

"If you don't mind!" Klink retorted firmly, and strode off to set up the next shot.

I watched him go with a mixture of worry and amusement and said, "A star is born!"

Klink had disappeared into his office, and reappeared a few minutes later carrying a large, red banner of some kind. He nearly tripped over it in his enthusiasm.

It turned out to be a banner proclaiming "Welcome to Stalag 13" in English! Heaven knows why he had it, I'd never seen it before.

As Klink ran about rounding up volunteers to hold up the banner, I contemplated this transformation. Anyone would think that Klink was being liberated, not the camp. He darted about with the energy of a man half his age, all smiles and easy humor.

_Who IS this guy? And what has he done with the body of Colonel Wilhelm Klink? _

It was rather a bittersweet feeling, watching Klink operate under the apparently happy illusion that the Allies were about to win the war and take his command from him.

As Newkirk, Kinch, and Schultz were arranging themselves with the banner, I saw Klink walk a few paces away, his back toward me. He slipped my hat from his head and then sniffed at it!

"Sir," I said, and he jumped, "if I smell so badly, you could always give us another shower per week."

"No, no Hogan, not at all," he stammered, "I was just, er, thinking I needed to return this to you."

He handed my cap back and I returned his. I looked at him in puzzlement, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. Instead, he hurried off to join Carter, Helga, and LeBeau on the steps of the Kommandantur, underneath the banner held by the others.

I went over to Ritchie and Donner who were setting up the shot.

"After you, uh, get this shot, tell the ham that you're out of film, you need a car, and get out of here."

"Right you are," replied Ritchie.

Just then, I heard a motor, I looked toward the front gate and saw a staff car arriving. Someone important was here.

_Shit!_

To be continued...

**A/N:**Next chapter, we're back with Klink again. Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I have to confess, this is one of my favorite sequences in the entire series, and so this was a really fun chapter for me to write.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** We're back with Klink now...

**Warnings:** As has been mentioned...Klink has unrequited yearnings for Hogan.

Movies Are Your Best Escape - 6

It was more fun than I had had for about as long as I could remember.

The two military archivists were clearly not Germans, and one gave himself away as a Brit with his salute. I had no idea what they were doing in my camp, but I silenced their clumsy explanations while I still had plausible reason to be deceived by their story.

Next thing I knew, Hogan had taken me by the arm and strongly suggested that I make the most of the opportunity to show my kindness toward the Allied prisoners. My heart soared. Hogan _did_ apparently care about my future after the fall of Germany, and he was offering me the opportunity to prove myself as a humane Kommandant on film.

I dove into the project with enthusiasm. I even dragged out a banner I had made when Stalag 13 was first opened that proclaimed (in English): _Welcome to Stalag 13._ I had thought it would help to put prisoners at ease on arrival. However, at the opening inspection of the camp, General Burkhalter had deemed it "ridiculous" and made me take it down. I was glad now that I had decided to save it!

The only bad moment was when Hogan saw me smelling his hat. I just couldn't help myself. I'd never actually held something of Hogan's before, much less something that was so imbued with his scent - the prison soap mixed with something rich and musky. It smelled of strength and masculinity, and I was briefly intoxicated, until I heard Hogan's voice behind me. I quickly gave him back his hat and he returned mine.

I hurried over and joined Helga, LeBeau and Carter on the steps of the Kommandantur while Hogan went and spoke to the cameramen.

Just then, a large car pulled into the camp, and much to my surprise, General von Kaplow emerged. He was no longer wearing the briefcase, so apparently his mission, whatever it was, had been accomplished.

"What an unexpected pleasure, Herr General," I said in greeting.

"Just on my way back from Berlin," he explained, "I couldn't wait to see my little friend Fräulein Helga," he took her hand and leered at her, "I thought perhaps we could have one of your excellent dinners."

He kissed Helga's hand. I had no interest in his attempts to seduce my secretary, I wanted to hear the latest news from Berlin.

"Herr General, you have just returned from Berlin - are things really as bad as they say they are?"

"Things were never better," boasted the general, "the _Wilhelmstra__ß__e_ is busy with the war, and we are celebrating victories on all fronts."

"But what about the rumors?" I asked.

"Without rumors, there would be no war," replied the von Kaplow dismissively.

"But the Führer's speech last night - he hinted there might be negotiations."

"Perhaps it was a trial balloon; Hitler loves to confuse his enemies."

Von Kaplow was clearly losing interest in our conversation and began leering at Helga again.

I pasted a happy expression on my face, but inside, a traitorous part of me wilted in disappointment.

"So we're not losing the war?" I asked, wanting to be absolutely certain.

"Losing?" the general chuckled, "I've already made a hotel reservation in London."

With that he put his arm around Helga and led her off for a private word.

As they walked a short distance away, I did some quick thinking.

_If we're not losing the war, then all that footage could get me into a lot of trouble. As much as I appreciate Hogan's efforts on my behalf, I simply cannot allow that film out of the camp._

I looked over and saw the two cameramen hurrying away with their camera. I had to stop them before they disappeared to wherever they had come from.

"Just a minute!" I called as I ran after them, "There will be no more pictures taken here! I will personally destroy this film!"

I seized the camera and attempted to open it. Hogan quickly stopped me.

"Wait a minute sir!" he said desperately, tearing my hand away from the opening latch.

I was so surprised that I did stop what I was doing as he attempted to grab the camera and me at the same time.

"Good move," he said much more quietly, one arm around me, pulling me close, "you know, this is probably a trick by the Gestapo to test your loyalty."

"But why?" I asked, my mind in a whirl.

"They're jealous, you're too efficient!"

_So now Hogan wants me to believe the Gestapo is behind the filming?_

As far as I knew, Hogan's plans had never failed before, so I decided to play along. Before I could really react, Hogan had grabbed the film camera.

"Here, I'll take this for you," he said and hurried off, but I followed him closely. He went to a rain barrel and dunked the camera several times into the water.

"There, now, there," Hogan said with satisfaction, "take that." He handed the camera back to the two archivists.

"I'd get rid of these guys if I were you," he said to me in a low voice as he shook water from his hands.

"Exactly!" I agreed.

"But fast!" urged Hogan.

I turned to them, "Captain! You and your assistant get out of here at once!"

"But Colonel, our car broke down..."

_So that's their story? No matter, I can spare a car._

"Schultz! Requisition a car and driver from the motor pool and take the Captain and his assistant wherever they wish to go."

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz said, and waddled quickly off.

"Auf wiedersehen, Colonel," said the Captain, evidently happy to be off, "heil Hitler!"

"Heil Hitler and get out," I replied, my patience wearing thin.

_This charade on both sides would be funny if lives weren't at stake._

I decided to express some of my frustration to Hogan, but still under the current disguise.

"Imagine the _nerve _of those men coming here with their camera!" I said.

"Oh, you handled it masterfully, sir, masterfully," Hogan replied with a teasing grin as he continued to rub his cold, wet hands. I had the brief notion of lending him my gloves, but didn't dare with the general still lurking about somewhere.

"Thank you," I replied, somewhat mollified by the compliment. There was a moment of awkward silence. Then I remembered von Kaplow's hint about another dinner.

"Uh, Colonel Hogan..."

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you and your men would mind doing me a favor?"

"What's the favor?" Hogan looked very interested.

"As you see, General von Kaplow has returned to camp and he was hoping to have another one of your Frenchman's excellent dinners. You could dine with us again, of course."

"I'll have to offer my men something in return," said Hogan.

"What do you want?"

"Our records back."

"Agreed."

I was mildly surprised that Hogan didn't ask for anything that would cost me money.

The dinner went similarly as the first one had, although this time there were no broken wineglasses or Englishmen crawling under the table. There were also no requests for me to play the violin.

After dinner Helga made a hasty escape, but Hogan, von Kaplow, and I smoked cigars in my sitting room. Hogan and von Kaplow continued their verbal jousting from last time, but thankfully they both maintained a civil tone and actually seemed to be enjoying themselves.

After he finished his cigar, the General made his excuses. It seemed that without Helga there to seduce, he was ready to leave. He sent for his car and we waved him off from the door of my quarters.

Hogan looked at me questioningly. He was expecting me to order him back to his barracks, but I wasn't quite ready to say goodnight.

"Hogan, would you care for another glass and a smoke?"

"Sure! Thanks!"

We went back inside and I poured another glass of wine for each of us and we lit new cigars. As Hogan sat in one of my stuffed chairs he looked around the room curiously.

"So where did all this stuff come from? Not from the army, surely!"

I laughed, "No, it's all stuff from the Burg Klink - things my mother was ready to dispose of."

"Burg Klink?"

"The family home. Sounds grander than it is, it's really just a - what is the English expression? a pile, I believe you would call it, out in the Harz mountains. I've never spent a lot of time there, while I was growing up we lived in Düsseldorf."

Hogan then proceeded to ask me about my family, my childhood, my education. His interest was extremely gratifying because he listened with complete attention. I tried to ask him similar questions in return, but he always managed to give brief answers and draw long ones from me.

Hogan finally finished his cigar, and ground it out, looking just a bit regretful. At least, that's what I hoped I read in his expression.

"Well, sir, this has been nice, but I think I'm ready to call it a night."

"Of course, Hogan. Thank you for accommodating my request on behalf of General von Kaplow. I'll have the records taken over to the recreation hall in the morning."

"Thank you, sir."

"And Hogan," I had a sense of regret over what I had to say next, "I've given it some thought, and, I don't think I can - I don't think I _will_ play in your orchestra at the present time."

Hogan looked at me searchingly for a moment then said, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Colonel. Well, remember, our door is always open if you change your mind."

We shook hands and Hogan made his way off towards the barracks.

I turned around and saw my record player with the stack of records beside it. Since they would be leaving in the morning, I decided to listen to my favorite one, so as I washed up the wine glasses I was swaying to the sounds of Tommy Dorsey.

END.

**A/N:** So, I obviously have changed the ending there quite a bit. Please let me know what you think! As I said, things will be different from here on out...


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